Primal Urges
by Marianna Merlo
Summary: An eighth year fic… er... or should I say, a prehistoric fic?


Fucking Granger. Even after the war, she still managed to beat him in every subject they took together. Yesterday, she had received the top score on their Arithmancy test, and Draco fell to a lowly second. And just now, she had received higher marks on the paper they had submitted in Study of Ancient Runes. Draco had spent the entire weekend at the library, nose-deep in textbooks, conducting research for his thesis statement. As far as he knew, Granger had been gallivanting around Hogsmeade with bloody Weasley!

Draco stormed out of the Ancient Runes classroom clutching his parchment tightly in his fist. He was ready to rip it to shreds; 152 centimeters (about the height of an average first-year) of subpar analysis.

That was the last straw. He had to beat Granger on the upcoming exam. If he could only get one measly point more than her. Just one point! He vowed to study every night for a whole three weeks - including weekends.

If he could beat Granger, then he'd graduate with the top marks in his year. Being second-best wasn't going to cut it for him now, not with the political climate how it was and with the Ministry's probationary measures on young ex-Death Eaters. If he wanted to get anywhere now, he was going to have to impress people. Having top marks was just the thing to show he'd changed his direction in life and was focusing on serious matters, working towards being a valuable member of Wizarding society.

He made his way past a large pack of frightened second years, who immediately cleared his path upon spotting him, and strode directly to the third floor. When he reached the stone gargoyle, he recited the password and hopped on the staircase.

He was about to knock on McGonagall's door when it opened just as he was raising his hand. The person who came through apparently wasn't expecting someone on the other side of the door, because he collided into Draco with surprising force.

_Oomf!_ "Watch it, Potter!" Draco snarled, shoving him away.

Potter straightened the thin, wire frames back that had been jostled from the impact. Running a hand through his hair, he looked Draco up and down with slight sneer. "Why don't you watch where you're standing?" he said lightly, and he walked around Draco.

Draco watched him as he walked down the steps, even as the staircase was revolving downwards.

"Come in," came McGonagall's call from inside, and Draco entered her office.

He stomped to her desk and stood in front of it with the parchment still crinkled within his tightly clenched fist.

"Professor," he said, "I have an issue of utmost importance that I wish to discuss with you."

"Please sit down, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, gesturing to one of the chairs. Draco looked at it as if he'd just realized the possibility of sitting, and plopped down heavily into the squishy armchair. "What is this issue?"

"I want to request the use of a Time Turner."

McGonagall looked him in the eye with a sharply raised brow and pursed lips. She seemed to be considering him thoroughly, and it made Draco's shoulder twitch.

"I am not sure," she said, "if that would be allowed for you, unfortunately. The Ministry has placed strict guidelines for those students who took the Mark."

"Yes I know, but guidelines on the use of _Time Turners_? Surely they have not even thought of it."

McGonagall hesitantly admitted, "I don't believe they've expressly forbidden their use, no. But..."

"Well, then! I don't see why I can't have the right to one, like every other student. I know Granger is using one right now."

"Ms. Granger has expressed to me her desire to catch up on the schoolwork she has missed because of the war, in one semester instead of two, because she ."

"And that's exactly what I plan on doing."

"You were here during your seventh year, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "If I recall correctly."

"Yes, Professor," Draco said, becoming more frustrated with the conversation, as it seemed she was not going to grant him this. "But only for the first half of the year. I wasn't here for the spring semester because I became detained with... well..." he looked away and felt himself flush, and he murmured, "... you know with what."

McGonagall sighed. "To be honest with you, I don't believe you need a Time Turner to catch up. You are only making up one semester, which you are a third of the way through now. And," she put her hand up to pause Draco mid-protest, "_and_, I don't think the Ministry would approve of my giving you access to such an object, in any case. So I am going to have to ask you to just do your best with the classes you are taking now, and forget about taking any extra."

"But Professor, I _need_ to take more electives. I need to look good when I graduate. If I am ever going to get hired anywhere, I need to be above average in academics. This is my future I'm thinking about."

McGonagall's featured softened, but only in the slightest.

"Am I to be pushed for my stupid mistakes for my entire life? I am trying to make amends, and I am trying to work hard for a better future. I know that if I took just as many classes as Granger, and I did well in them, then I might be able to prove myself."

"Mr. Malfoy -"

"Please, Professor. I am asking you to do me this one favor. Like you said yourself, the Ministry hasn't expressly said anything for or against my use of Time Turners. They wouldn't even have to know..."

McGonagall studied him for a moment longer while Draco held his breath. She got out of her seat and slowly made her way to a cabinet by the window. Pulling apart the double doors, she reached in pulled out a tiny hourglass on a delicate golden chain, filled with shimmering sand.

Draco's heart made a leap as he eyed the object. He couldn't believe it - he was actually about to be given a Time Turner.

McGonagall returned to her seat and held the magical device in her palm. "You cannot tell anyone that I have given this to you."

Draco shook his head frantically.

"And," she continued, "you realize that this is a huge risk for me?" He nodded and said Yes, Ma'am. "We could both get into a heap of trouble if someone finds out, so be very careful with people noticing you are in two places at once."

"Yes, of course. I certainly will, thank you." Draco took the delicate thing and pulled the chain around his neck. The sand shimmered irridescent as it swung from his neck.

"I will inform your professors. Meet with the professors of your desired electives, and let them know I have given you permission to enroll. I must say," she continued in a less formal tone, "I am not comfortable at all with this arrangement. But, I can't bear to keep you from reaching your full potential. You are so young... And Dumbledore would have given it to you." Her gaze fell to the desk.

Draco nodded stiffly. "I do appreciate it, Professor," he said softly.

He turned to walk out, and just as he was about to push the door open, she called out to him.

"Mr. Malfoy," he heard, and he paused, looking back over his shoulder. Her sharp gaze was back in full force, and she said, "I trust you."

He smiled in what he hoped was not a nervous manner, and left.

This was great, he thought as he strolled confidently to lunch in the Great Hall. He had a Time Turner! Of course, this would mean more work for him, but he could do it. He had to.

He planned study sessions in his mind already, already envisioning himself encircled in a cocoon of books, in his favorite corner of the library. He would bring tea and crisps and have a grand old time. And the Time Turner would help him get all his extra work done now that he was going to take on a few more subjects.

Maybe he would even use it to study extra long for the upcoming Runes exam! He smiled to himself as he imagined the look on Granger's face when they got their exams back and he did better than her.

His fingers idly toyed with the device. Which subjects should he take? Maybe he should actually take - Merlin help him - _Muggle Studies_, if only to show people he'd changed. But it would be rough; he could already feel the sneer forming on his lips at the thought.

And suddenly he was jolted out of his thoughts by another forceful crash into another human being.

He yelled out as he fell right on his arse on the hard, stone floor. Looking up, Draco saw a flash of red hair laughing, and a flash of bushy brown hair as well. And there was Potter, looking self-satisfied and smug.

He got up and collected his bag off the floor, swinging it back onto his shoulder. "What the _fuck_, Potter? Do you not have eyes? Need to get your glasses checked?"

Potter actually had the audacity to chuckle silently to himself, right in Draco's face! He said, "No, that one was on purpose, Malfoy."

The tosser.

Behind him, Weasley's ears were red from laughing. Granger was standing next to him, looking worried. She kept glancing between him and Potter, as if scared they were about to break out into a brawl.

But Draco had no time for such things anymore. No, he had to keep his head low and stay out of trouble, so there would be no brawls today.

"Well," he said stiffly, trying to calm his breathing, "I see not all of us have grown up yet."

Potter only smiled and said, "I agree. You've grown up quite a lot."

And then Draco was confused, because Potter was looking at him strangely, and he even saw Potter swallow, and he gazed Draco up and down a bit like he was perusing a baked goods display. It made Draco feel sort of hot, all of the sudden. He wondered when the temperature had risen, and if he should go change out of his robes.

Granger's voice cut through his jumbled thoughts. "Oh, Malfoy! Is that a Time Turner? Have you got one as well?"

Fuck! No one was supposed to see it.

He tucked it hastily into the front of his robe and looked at her with his chin held high. "I'm taking extra electives, starting this week."

"I wonder if we'll be in the same ones," she said brightly.

"Hermione," Weasley said, turning to her, "you don't have to be nice to him, you know."

Granger shot him a sharp look that Draco guessed was supposed to shut Weasley up. But she really needn't bother defending him.

"It's fine, Weasley, don't get into a spat over it. Wouldn't want to see you breaking up with your girlfriend over me, in any case."

Potter turned to him. "She was only trying to be nice."

"Don't need anyone to be nice to me! Try minding your own business."

He tried to walk around them, but Potter grabbed him by the elbow. "Why in such a hurry, Malfoy?"

Draco shook him off and rounded on him, looking him eye to eye. "Why don't you just stay out of my _way_, Potter?" he asked, shoving him hard in the chest.

"What if I don't want to?" Potter pushed him back so hard that Draco almost lost his footing.

And before he knew it, Draco was involved in the brawl that he'd so desperately wanted to avoid. He didn't know who threw the first punch, but soon they were both on the floor trying to smash each other's faces into the stone. At one point, Draco managed to get on top of Potter, straddling his waist and trying to hit him while Potter grabbed him by the forearm and tried to wrestle him off.

He felt someone pull him from behind, and he couldn't help but stumble onto his feet while Potter got up. He struggled to get out of the person's grip, but he realized it was Weasley, and he was actually very strong.

"Let go of me!" Draco shouted.

Granger was pulling Potter's arm as he took the few steps toward Draco. He reached for him, but she pulled him back just as he was about to grab Draco's robes by the neck. His fist grabbed the chain of the Time Turner instead, and as he was wrenched back from Draco, the chain snapped.

Draco felt as if his heart would stop, as he watched as the little hourglass twirled through the air, spinning countless times. If it fell, it would shatter, and then he definitely wouldn't be getting another one.

Without another thought, Draco leapt toward the Time Turner, ignoring Granger's shout of, "Malfoy, don't!" He couldn't let it hit the floor.

He reached for it, and it landed right into his hand. Then, he felt a sickening lurch in his stomach, and he felt himself being pulled into darkness.

Draco opened his eyes slowly, and for a moment he panicked, thinking he'd damaged his vision somehow. But then he realized that he was in a very poorly lighted place, and his eyes were fine.

It was also a cool place. And a hard place, if his sore back muscles gave any indication. The smell of damp earth overwhelmed him. He looked around, once his vision became accustomed to the dark, and he realized that he was staring at the ceiling of a cave.

He sat up swiftly and immediately felt a pounding in his head.

"Ow," he whined, lifting a hand to his sore scalp. He had hit his head? When had that happened?

And how had he ended up in a _cave?_

He looked around the stony, dim cave, and it all came flooding back to him. With a small, sharp inhale of breath, he remembered the fight with Potter, the Time Turner spinning rapidly as it lurched through the air. He had reached out for it. Like an idiot.

"Fuck!" he shouted, and his voice echoed back to him as it reverberated into the deep, dark expanse that lay before Draco.

The cave was so hollow and lonely. He turned toward the entrance to it, where there was light, and he slowly crawled to his feet.

He was naked.

Draco frantically looked around for his robes, but he couldn't see them anywhere. Not under that rock. Not behind the slimy drippy thing... Nowhere!

He felt his breath become short and he clutched at his head again, the pounding dull and but constant.

Stop it, he thought. He had to stop panicking and start thinking.

The first thing he needed to do- yes, before even worrying about his clothes - was to figure out the date. He could be anywhere, in any time period. That thing had spun around about a thousand times.

And in order to figure out where he was, he'd have to get out of this cave. Somebody had obviously brought him here, as well as fixed up his bruises and removed all his clothing. They would surely know what the date was. Of course, if said person was living in a cave, then maybe they didn't know a lot of anything...

But they knew enough to dress all of the cuts and scratches painting Draco's body. He felt along one pink line over his ribs and discovered that there was a sticky, salve-like substance on the cut. There was also a scratch on his upper thigh. He blushed at the thought that a stranger had taken off his pants and gazed openly at his cock and balls. Though, he supposed the person was only trying to be thorough.

He made his way to the cave entrance, and he got his first view of the world outside. It was sometime in the evening, and the sun was going down in the sky, bathing the world in bright orange light. Draco looked around in awe at trees taller and thicker than he had ever laid eyes on. There was vegetation everywhere, and the pungent aroma of flowers and fresh grass filled his lungs. It seemed as if he was in some sort of lush forest, overgrown with plants that were larger in scale than normal.

What time period was he in?

He heard a rustling on his right, and he quickly turned to the source of the noise. Draco's felt his mouth fall open upon seeing the man who emerged from the trees. He was also naked, except for an animal-skin loincloth that left very, _very_ little to the imagination. His skin was sun-kissed with color, and the muscles of his body were clearly defined. And his thick, black hair fell around his face as if blown by a storm.

It was Potter! Harry bloody Potter, wearing next to nothing, and walking up to Draco in this crazy, surreal past life. Draco felt a bit dizzy.

He put his hand to his head and started to inhale heavily, Potter's image blurring and tripling before his dazed eyes. He had to figure out what was happening, and where he was and in what time period and why Potter was walking up to him and reaching out...

Draco thoughts slowed to a stop as he felt himself lose consciousness.

When he opened his eyes again, he found his face pressed against a hard, toned chest. He blinked against it, noticing the light dusting of dark hair that he could see perfectly from this close up. Strong arms were holding him up.

Draco looked up, and Potter's concerned face was staring down at him. Great. He was naked in Potter's arms, having passed out for a minute like ruddy damsel. And yet, he noticed that that he felt no desire to get up.

Then he was heaved up into Potter's embrace, one of Potter's hands on his back and one under Draco's knees. He yelped and swung his arms around Potter's neck to steady himself.

Potter was carrying him back to the cave. Oh, Merlin.

When they got inside, the cool air of the dark cave immediately felt refreshing to Draco's skin, which was burning up. He supposed the lurch of time travel so far back into the past, and the shock of it all - not to mention that he'd clearly hit his head at one point - must be taking a toll on his body and making him slightly feverish.

It seemed as if he had traveled back to some prehistoric time, where Potter lived in a cave and walked around in a loin cloth. Were there more cave people, or was Potter the only one? Surely, he couldn't be the only one.

Potter laid him down on his back, on top of a mat of long, interwoven grasses. He dipped his bare hand into a nearby pool of water that had either accumulated naturally or had been made by Potter himself. Then, he smoothed his wet palm over Draco's forehead.

"Potter," Draco said, trying to move his hand away.

But Potter grabbed him and held his arm by his side. Draco noticed how his biceps strained from the pressure of holding him down. Potter's other hand continued to smooth the cool water over Draco's forehead.

Draco closed his eyes. It was actually nice, when he relaxed and let himself enjoy the feeling. Potter's palm was slightly rough, but when the pads of his fingers traced water down one of Draco's cheekbones and along his jaw, Draco felt his heart speed up.

"Potter," Draco tried again, a bit more softly. Who was he kidding? Potter probably couldn't understand him.

But he needed to find out things, such as, where was his stuff? Was his backpack here, or his wand? And, what in the name of Merlin's beard happened to the Time Turner?

Draco felt the head-pounding return, and he made a move to sit up, but Potter put both hands on his shoulders and held him against the mat.

"Potter!" Draco said for the third time. "Not now, I need to find my things."

Potter was looking down at him with a furrowed brow.

"My things," Draco continued, praying Potter would somehow understand or get the hint. "My robe... which you so obviously stole... and my wand. My _things_, Potter!" He started to gesture all over his body with his hands, trying to indicate the concept of a robe, or clothing.

Potter made a strange grunting sound at the back of his throat, and he reached out and touched Draco, apparently attempting to mimic Draco's movements. He traced his collarbone and then ran a flat palm down Draco's chest, over a nipple, along his ribs, across his stomach, dipping a finger gingerly into his belly button...

Draco flinched at the arousal that dip had driven into his groin. "Stop it!" he said, shoving Potter's hand away. Potter shoved his hand right back, and they soon had a little shoving match that ended with Potter pinning Draco's arms over his head.

Draco swallowed. Being pinned down while totally naked made him instantly horny, and Potter was rough with him... Draco's chest rose and fell as his breathing became heavier. Without even realizing he was doing it, he let his knees bend until his feet were flat on the ground and his legs were ever-so-slightly splayed.

Potter stared down at him, his body on top of Draco's as he laid right on his chest. His face was so close, and Draco noticed for the first time that he wasn't wearing glasses...

Then, Potter lowered his head into Draco's hair, and Draco both heard and felt him inhale. Potter was smelling him. He was smelling his hair as he had him trapped, with his arms over his head and private areas utterly exposed. And why did Draco suddenly need to arch his back?

This caveman Potter seemed to like him.

Potter suddenly got up and went to the other side of the cave, and Draco felt even more naked without Potter's body pressing on top of him.

He lay there, never lowering his hands, as he watched Potter's body move - the muscles in his back and in his thighs made Draco swallow heavily again. Potter knelt down, and Draco heard him rustling through some things hidden in the shadows. The loin cloth covering Potter's arse shifted up dangerously, and Draco's mind flooded with images of what Potter's balls might look like if it had risen up just the tiniest bit more.

Potter came back carrying a long strand of some type of string. Dangling off it were tiny white seashells and white pebbles. There were also a few white, dagger-like teeth that looked like they had once belonged to a small but vicious animal.

He put his hand under Draco's head and lifted it off the mat, and Draco never moved from his current position. Carefully, Potter put the necklace around Draco's neck, and he let it run through his hand as he positioned the strand to lie along Draco's chest.

Draco lowered one hand to lightly touch the necklace, tracing a delicate white seashell with his fingertips. What did this gift mean?

He then felt one of Potter's strong arms take hold of him around the waist, and pull him toward Potter's outstretched body. Potter had laid down next to him on the grass mat, which was hardly wide enough for Draco. He threw a gorgeous, heavy leg over Draco's and settled his face into Draco's shoulder.

Draco didn't move a muscle. Caveman Potter was cuddling him.

"Potter," he whispered as he poked at his arm, which was gripping his waist tightly. "Are you going to sleep now?"

Potter moaned in a tired manner and pulled Draco even closer to his hard, warm body. He was basically on top of him, and Draco could feel Potter's heartbeat. He closed his eyes and listened, just for a moment.

When Draco woke up, he was, again, alone in the cave. The light pouring into the cave told him that it was morning, and he had slept through the night soundly. Potter was gone.

He really needed to find his things and try to get out of here. There must be some way to get back home - there had to be. He couldn't be stuck here forever with prehistoric Potter, no matter how good the git looked in his little cloth. With his manly physique, his dusting of chest hair, his strong hands gripping Draco and lifting him... Stop it! Focus.

He walked through the forest, not knowing what he was looking for but determined to explore his surroundings. Maybe he'd find a clue as to where he was, in case that helped him any.

Scowling, he brushed his way deeper into the dense forest, finding it extremely difficult to navigate - he wasn't accustomed to traipsing through harsh wilderness. Just when he suspected he might be lost and a twinge of panic seeped in, he noticed a small pathway winding through the trees. It was made where the grasses were beaten down; he suspected, from frequent travelers treading the same route every day. He might as well follow one of these paths, since it could lead him to more people.

He was right. Only a twenty minute walk revealed a small village with a few well-placed wooden huts, hidden inside a circle of thick trees. Draco peaked through the branches, into the clearing.

So, there were more of these cave people, just as he'd suspected. All of them wore loin cloths just like Potter's, and the women walked around with their breasts hanging freely. Draco grimaced.

There was a rustle of leaves behind him, and Draco jumped around.

"Oh," he breathed in relief, "Potter. It's you. Bloody hell..." he yelped as Potter grabbed him.

With Potter's grip unyieldingly firm on his arm, Draco had no choice but to let himself be dragged through the thick underbrush. Draco had no doubt that this Potter could physically dominate him. Somehow, this knowledge inspired both a flare of angry frustration, as well as a flare of heat low in Draco's stomach.

Though maybe the latter could be attributed to the fact that his dangling prick bobbed up and down with each step, slapping his ball sack and his thighs as he hurried to keep up with Potter's pace.

They came upon a river, and only then did Potter let go of Draco's arm. Draco watched him as he jogged over to the streaming water and fell to his knees before it. He dipped both hands in and let the water run over them for a moment. Then he looked back, and his bright green eyes roamed Draco's body in a way that reminded Draco very distinctly of the look real-Potter had given him in the hallway of Hogwarts, moments before that stupid fight.

Cave Potter got up and strode determinedly in Draco's direction, and Draco felt himself stiffen and almost flinch backward. But he let himself be dragged to the river's shore, nonetheless. His breath hitched when Potter grabbed him at the back of the thigh. His other hand smudge of dirt that painted Draco's chest.

Admittedly, he hadn't noticed just how filthy he was. From sleeping on the floor of the cave and roaming through the forest all day, Draco just realized that he was sweaty and gross, covered in dirt here and there, and still sticky from the salve substance on his cuts and bruises.

Potter pushed him into the river.

"Bloody hell!" Draco shouted when he managed to emerge from the cool water, sputtering and spitting, trying to get the water out of his ears and nose.

Then he froze, and stared. Potter was still on the shore, removing his loin cloth. His simply pulled a string at the side, and the thing fell straight to the ground. Just like that. And then Potter was completely exposed.

Draco's mouth suddenly went completely dry as he eyed Potter's cock. Merlin, the girth... It was half hard and surrounded by dark hair, that was so obviously natural and unkempt. Draco couldn't take his eyes off it. When Potter walked into the water, Draco was almost disappointed to see it disappear from view.

The water was so clear that both their cocks were visible beneath the stream. Draco's was completely hard.

Potter then proceeded to wash him. He rubbed Draco's body under the water, everywhere that there was dirt. There were smudges on his thighs, and Potter used his hands to get rid of them, one hands on each side of a thigh and rubbing up and down until the skin was clean. He picked up Draco's arm and flipped it to see the Dark Mark. He then cupped some water in his palm and brought it up to the black tattoo, scrubbing at it furiously.

"Oh, that's not going to come off, Potter."

A willow tree curved over the river, nearby, its long, thin branches dipping into the water. It's small leaves floated along with the stream, as well as small flowers that were white and yellow. Draco found himself surrounded in a bath of cool, clean water filled with floating flowers, the fragrance fresh and sweet. He closed his eyes as Potter's hands smoothed over his skin, lighting him on fire from the inside. He felt so relaxed, and so open.

He let his legs drift apart, his feet massaged from the coarse sand at the shallow floor of the river where they were standing. His cock and arse were thrumming with feeling. Potter's fingers were in his pubic hair, giving him a thorough wash.

He felt himself being turned around, and Draco's breathlessly complied. Hands were massaging his back, and cool water was being poured over his shoulders. Then he felt the hands kneading the soft mounds of his arse, and rubbing underneath the cheeks where they met with his thighs. He let out a whimper of pleasure.

After Potter seemed to be satisfied with the cleanliness of his body, Draco felt himself being pushed toward a large boulder jutting into the water from the shore. He was bent over the boulder, sprawled onto it, with his bottom half still emerged in water.

Apparently Draco had been wrong to assume Potter was satisfied. Apparently, Potter was not satisfied at all.

Draco felt the cheeks of his arse being spread. His heartbeat raced through his chest, his breath getting shallower all the time. Potter was going to clean him everywhere. In his most secret, private place, never exposed to anyone's view...

Potter's finger traced around his entrance, and Draco yelped slightly at the sensation. The circular motion continued, aided by the water, until Draco was oversensitized and spreading his legs in a plead for more. His breath was coming out in little panting whimpers. The knowledge that he couldn't fight back against Potter drove him inside; that he had no choice but to let Potter do this to him, touch him there if it so pleased him.

Draco felt his arsehole stretching over the intrusion of Potter's finger. He was so ready for it at his point that it barely stung, and the water helped sooth his sensitive skin. Potter pushed his finger into his arse at a steady pace, until Draco felt the larger press of his curled fist. Then, he began fucking Draco with that single finger, one of his hands splayed across Draco's back, holding him steady. Draco moaned openly from the pleasure that surged from his arsehole straight to his already leaking cock.

Potter didn't seem to think even this was good enough, because he placed his hands under Draco's shoulder and lifted his bottom out of the water. Draco laid with his legs spread higher up the rock. Only his knees were submerged now, his arse fully in the air in Potter's face. Potter let out an animalistic grunt, and spread Draco's cheeks again, this time placing his face between them.

Draco moaned at the feeling of Potter's hot tongue, lapping away at his hole. He arched his back, pushing his bottom out further toward Potter, who was holding him from below his arse cheeks. Draco felt his tongue slide over the furrowed skin in long stripes, one, two, three times before it turned into a hard point and jabbed at his hole viciously. Draco barely heard himself howling obscenely as he continued to be tongue-fucked. Then, Potter's tongue disappeared, and Draco felt the softer press of lips encircling his hole. Potter's lips _sucked_, and Draco creamed all over the boulder.

After he had ridden out his release, Draco slid off the boulder and fell backwards into Potter's arms, which encircled him from behind and held him up from his waist and chest. Then Potter picked him up in the same fashion with which he carried him into the cave last night. Draco again gripped his neck, this time not caring in the slightest how it looked - no one was around anyway.

He never failed to be shocked at Potter's strength and stamina. Potter carried Draco all the way back to the village, never pausing for breath and not loosening his grip for a moment. People turned to stare at them, and Draco hid his face in Potter's neck. Everyone could see his prick and dangling balls, and Draco felt the heat rise up in his cheeks.

Potter set him down on his feet, and Draco immediately scrambled to cover his privates, placing his hands over himself like a shield. Potter seemed to have no problem with being naked amongst all these people, because he walked confidently across the clearing and up to a older man. Not that he had any reason to be embarrassed, Draco thought as he admired Potter's arse from behind. Potter and the man sat down by a small fire, and Potter dipped the end of a stick into it. From the ashes, he was able to make markings onto a large, flat stone.

They were communicating through symbols! It was strangely impressive.

Then Draco felt a weight on his shoulder, and he turned to see a burly, hairy, _beast_ of a man holding onto him.

"Ugh," Draco murmured. The man smelled like manure and body odor. A terrible combination. And he had a scraggly beard and insane, scraggly hair. Even his eyebrows fanned out into untidy bushes over his eyes.

Now _here_ was a caveman.

Draco tried to shrug him off, shouting profanities that he knew the man didn't understand, but he couldn't manage it. The man was much too strong, and his grip much too tight.

"Get off!" Draco shouted with one last attempt at a shove, but he was unsuccessful again. The caveman grabbed him with both hands now, and pushed him over. Draco fell on his arse, hard. "Bloody caveman!" he shouted. "I just spent an intoxicating hour getting clean!"

He got up and slapped at his bum to dust it off, but he stopped abruptly when he noticed the way the man stared at him. His eyes were dark, and he was making little grunting noises. Draco promptly removed his hand from his arse and put it in front of his groin, eyeing the man carefully.

With a howl into the air, and a single, fisted bang to his overly-muscular chest, the man charged at Draco like a wolf charging at its prey. Draco yelled out and tried to run, but the man grabbed him by the waist and hoisted Draco onto his shoulder as easily as if Draco was a twig.

"Potter! Potter, Potter, Potterrrr!" Draco shouted over and over again. Fuck, Potter didn't know that was his name!

Pounding with his fists on the disgusting hairy back to no avail, Draco felt like he was going to be sick. The man was walking away from the clearing, and his wide wand was gripping Draco so high up his thigh that it almost brushed his scrotum. He was going to ravaged by this man, he knew it. And Potter wasn't going to save him.

Draco suddenly felt an awakening in his heart, as he found himself wishing and begging Merlin for Potter. It was Potter's touch he wanted, not this … this... Neanderthal's! He wanted Potter to lay him down and bury his face in his hair like he did last night, and to touch him in his delicate places, like he did not two hours ago...

"Potter," he moaned quietly once more, feeling hopeless over the caveman's shoulder. The necklace that Potter gave him dangled from his neck, and he gripped the little white shells that were threaded so delicately through the string.

Then he heard a shout, and he lifted his head to see Potter, running toward him from across the clearing.

Draco's heart lurched in happiness. "Yes!" he shouted. He waved his arms, reaching toward Potter desperately, and then pounded again in the man's back. "Come get me!"

Potter caught up to them, and Draco reached out to hold his outstretched hands. He let his hands climb Potter's arm, until they were holding each other at the elbows, clutching at one another and forcing the caveman to halt.

The caveman turned, and Draco was ripped from Potter once again as the caveman faced him instead. There were shouts, and Draco felt grabs at his legs, and pulling and grasping. Eventually, Draco found himself on the ground, and he looked up to see Potter and the man wrestling on their feet next to him. The man was much more wide and muscular than Potter, but Potter was choking him at the neck. They looked like wild animals.

Two other cavemen ran over and attempted to separate the pair. The tangle of four set of limbs made Draco's head pound again, but eventually the caveman was free of Potter's grasp, and he roared at him while rubbing his throat.

There seemed to be a conversation taking place, among the four men. Arm waving and grunting all culminated in the four heads turning distinctly to Draco, who noticed then that he was still on the ground. He straightened himself up and attempted to dust off, when the caveman made moves toward him again.

"No, no," Draco muttered, when it looked like the caveman was reaching for him again. But instead, all he did was grab the necklace Draco wore, and he pulled it up and off from around Draco's head. With a roar of noise that sent birds fluttering out of the nearby trees, the cavemen thrust the necklace onto the dirt with force.

Potter looked angry, but he did not make any move to pick up the necklace. In fact, he turned and stomped to the middle of the clearing.

There was a crowd now, Draco noticed, full of curious faces. All of them watched Potter reach the center and then turn, with his hands on his hips, to look towards Draco again.

Then the two interfering men came up to Draco, and each took him by one of his arms. Draco struggled, but it was useless; they were both much stronger than him. They dragged him to the middle of the little clearing, where there was a contraption that looked like a primitive chair. It was more like a stool made out of a slab of wood placed horizontally on top of two large rocks. To his utter mortification, Draco found himself placed on his stomach, across the wooden bench part. The men adjusted him so that his arse was sticking straight up in the air, and Draco could feel the draft of open air against his exposed arsehole. He instinctively brought his hands back to cover himself, but he felt them slapped away again. He felt hands on his cheeks, opening him up even more, followed by a roaring shout by one of the men.

He felt like chattel on display for the highest bidder, and his currency was his sweet, tight hole, which caught the attention of these cavemen. He was probably the prettiest thing they'd ever seen, he thought sarcastically, cheeks burning with humiliation at being so crudely presented. His head was pounding.

When he turned his head, he could see the brawl clearly taking place between Potter and the caveman. Potter was fierce, and determined. His face was strained as he tried to hold off the burly man, who was attempting to push him backward with hands on his shoulders. Potter's stance was wide, and he pushed right back. Then he ducked suddenly, and the cavemen lost his footing and fell forward right on Potter's back.

Draco's breath hitched, because Potter surely couldn't have survived a mountain falling on top of him. But the mountain of muscle moved, and it wasn't to stand back up. He moved because Potter lifted him, his thighs braced and his biceps flexing as he hauled the man into the air and dropped him right into the dirt. Before the man could make any sort of move to get up, Potter had his foot wedged into his throat, choking him. The caveman tried to grasp at Potter's foot and leg, but Potter lifted off his other foot and put more weight on the man's neck.

Draco winced, himself, as he watched the man's face go purple with pain and lack of air. The cavemen then pounded on the ground with his fist, three times. A roar of howls and yelps sounded from the onlookers, who jumped up and down and clapped and pounded their chests. Potter removed his foot, and raised his arms into the air. He had won.

He walked out of Draco's line of vision, but he soon returned with the string of shells. Kneeling down by Draco's head, he placed the necklace back around his neck, claiming him as his own once again.

Then Draco felt himself being lifted off the bench by Potter's strong arms. This time, he found himself draped over Potter's shoulder. He winced and blushed when Potter slapped his arse three times in front of the roaring crowd, before carrying him off the clearing.

Although Draco could not see ahead, he knew Potter was taking him back to his cave. Draco's heart raced as he developed a suspicion of what was about to happen. He also felt his dick harden at the thought, and he knew Potter had also felt it because he brought his hard up to Draco's arse and caressed it the rest of the way to the cave.

When then finally got inside, Potter heaved him up and off his shoulder, placing him down on the hard ground. Draco was on his back, but Potter grabbed him firmly and flipped him over. He then took him by the hips and pulled him up, so that he was on his hands and knees.

Potter's hands traced up his back, and Draco arched into the touch. Then he felt the press of something hard and hot against the cleft of his arse. When only one hand held tightly at his hips, Draco knew that Potter was using his other to position his cock at Draco's entrance. Sure enough, the press of the head was the next thing Draco felt.

He yelled into the cave, and it echoed back at him, making it twice the volume. Potter was not gentle, and he did not ease himself in; he pushed in at a steady pace, like he did his finger. Draco forgave him though, because he'd rather have Potter than anyone else, and he knew Potter couldn't help it. This prehistoric version of Potter just knew he wanted Draco, and he'd won him, and that was that.

And it wasn't all bad. Draco found himself moaning in pleasure soon enough, as his prostate was brushed with every other thrust. Oh, was there ever thrusting. Potter fucked Draco like an animal would fuck its mate. He grunted over him viciously, and he pounded into him as if he would die without another delicious thrust into Draco's arse. Draco was pushed onto his elbows from the sheer force of it.

His own cock bobbed back and forth, and he felt himself near the edge. He felt his mouth open in a silent scream, and he shot onto the stony ground. Arse muscles clenching around Potter, his knees gave out and he collapsed onto ground.

He heard Potter howl, and he felt the odd sensation of warm liquid filling him on the inside. Without pretense, Potter pulled out, and Draco heard him moving around the cave. He'd gotten his use of him, and now Draco lay panting in on the ground alone.

Draco stayed there with his cheek pressed to the stone, blinking at the wall of the cave. There were charcoal etchings that looked like stick people and stick animals.

What was he doing here? Merlin, he just wanted to be home!

He moved to get up, noticing how sore his knees and _arse_ were, when he noticed a glint of light a bit deeper into the cave.

Something inside Draco clicked, urging him to go and see what that was. He rose to his feet, eyes trained on the spot where he saw the shining light. With every step, he felt his heart swell in his chest. He walked deeper into the cave than he had ever done, and right there in the corner where the light from the entrance could still shine off its surface lay McGonagall's Time Turner.

Draco gasped out loud, his shock reverberating back at him in the echo. Here it was the whole time, laying on its side in a corner of the cave. Bending down to pick up the Time Turner, he looked around and saw that his school robe and his backpack were here as well. His wand was still nowhere in sight, but his racing mind thought maybe he'd dropped it during the fight and it was still at Hogwarts...

Hogwarts. Oh, Hogwarts! It was a possibility now. With the Time Turner, he could finally go back to his time. He could go home. He could actually leave this bloody cave and bloody prehistoric Potter.

Draco turned back to Potter, who was sitting on the grass mat and sharpening a stick with a rock. Draco felt himself smile sadly.

He walked back over to him, hourglass in hand. As he approached, Potter looked up from his stick. Draco could swear that Potter's lips actually tilted up into a smile. But then he went right back to his stick, pulling the stone across the end to sharpen it into a point.

"Potter," Draco said.

Potter raised his head again, and blinked up at him. Draco reached down and traced his brow with his thumb, and Potter's eyes fluttered shut. He was so sweet, this Potter. Why couldn't the real Potter be this way. Surely he must be, deep down? If this was him at his simplest state...

Draco's thoughts were cut off when Potter abruptly stood. He was looking curiously at the Time Turner, and he grabbed it out of Draco's hands before Draco even took notice.

"No," Draco said with a slight panic. "Potter, give that back." Potter tilted his head and shook it. "No! That is not a toy! Give it back!" He leapt at it but Potter held it out of his reach.

Then Potter drew his arm back, and Draco knew what he was about to do. No, no, no, no...

"NO!" Draco shouted as the hourglass flew out of Potter's hand and soared towards the wall of the cave. Draco watched it with a sick drop in his stomach as the glass smashed against the wall of the cave. The iridescent sand shimmered beautifully as it cascaded down the stone and pooled messily on the ground.

Draco felt himself drop to his already battered knees, his strength failing him. Potter simply blinked once at the mess, then he sat back down on his mat and took up his rock and stick. Draco was going to be sick. He knew he was going to empty his stomach all over -

He felt a familiar lurch pulling him from his spine through his stomach, and then there was only blackness once more.

Draco was tired of waking up and not knowing where he was. This was simply too much shock for one person - he was sure his brain would shut down any moment and he would just die. Well, maybe nothing so dramatic, but it surely couldn't be healthy to be so disoriented all the time.

When he realized where he was, he shot up into a sitting position.

"Ow!" he shouted, gripping the back of his head where the pounding had returned full force.

At least he was in the Hospital Wing. In Hogwarts. He never thought he'd be so happy to see this pathetic excuse for a school, but it meant he was home! Somehow, miraculously, he was home. There was the school emblem over the doorway to the wing. Here he was in the familiar hospital wing gown, light blue and utterly utilitarian. And there was Potter perched nervously on one of the metal hospital wing chairs.

"Potter!" Draco croaked.

"You're awake," Potter said, leaning forward. "Do you … do you need anything? Madame Pomfrey said to give you water when you woke up."

Draco blinked. Water? "Yes, alright." He glared at Potter suspiciously as he hurried to pick up the pitcher and pour water into a glass on the nightstand. When he handed the glass over, Draco snatched it out of his hands and lifted it to his lips, staring at Potter over the edge.

Mmm, he hadn't realized how utterly parched he was.

Potter cleared his throat nervously then, and Draco looked back at him, placing the glass back on the nightstand. "Are you feeling alright," Potter asked.

"No," Draco said truthfully. "How did I get here?"

"You just... appeared."

Draco blinked at him. "Appeared?"

"Yes," Potter said, and Draco could swear he saw him blush. Potter looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. "You, er... you appeared in the hallway not five minutes after you had gone. You were completely naked."

Draco's eyes widened, and he heaved a tiny gasp. Bloody fucking hell with it all.

"What happened, Malfoy? Where did you go? The last thing I remember was fighting, and then you reached for the Time Turner and got pulled away."

"Yes, I remember," Draco huffed. "It's all your fault! You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?"

Potter's mouth clenched into a thin line.

"I could have been stuck in the past forever!"

"You didn't have to grab it..." Potter mumbled petulantly.

Draco's mouth fell open. "Didn't have to... Fuck you, Potter! I'm lucky the thing even smashed, or else I doubt -"

"It smashed?"

"I... yes."

"Oh, so that's how it happened."

"How what happened?" Draco spat.

"How you got back. We were trying to figure out how you got back without the Time Turner, and McGonagall said it could have been any number of ways. But the most likely is that the thing was destroyed."

Draco could tell his confusion was written on his face, because Potter clarified.

"When a Time Turner is destroyed, the user is automatically transported back to the time in which he belongs. By default. It sort of like the jig is up, party's over. You go back home."

"Bloody hell," Draco grabbed his head. He never knew that. All this trouble, so he could get top marks in school. His life was such a mess, what was he going to do with himself? He felt like he wanted to sleep for a month.

"Listen" Potter said, "I'm sorry I picked that fight with you. It's that I didn't..." he heaved a frustrated sigh, and Draco saw him blush. "You... you've just been so... _reserved_ this year, and well, you never talk to me anymore. I didn't quite know how to get your attention."

When he finished, he looked resolutely away from Draco, and he fiddled with the blanket, turning and twisting the edge with his fingers.

Potter liked him.

He liked him in every century!

Draco felt himself grinning like a loon. "You like me, Potter."

Potter's eyes jumped up to meet his, and then quickly looked away again as he blushed even more. "Er... No, I don't!"

Draco raised a brow at him.

"That's ridiculous," Potter continued lamely. "Of course I don't like you. How could I like someone so rude, and mean, and … and... blond?"

"Blond?"

"Yes. You're much too blond. For my taste." Potter swallowed, his eyes curiously staring straight at Draco's much too blonde head.

"Right. You like redheads, silly of me to forget."

"Not anymore, I don't," Potter muttered.

"What was that?" Draco asked sharply. Had Potter broken up with the Weasel's sister?

Potter peaked up at him under his lashes, smiling shyly. He bit his lip.

"Are you saying you no longer favor gingers, Potter?" Draco pressed, as this was life-changing news and he must find out.

"Well," Potter said, "it's not that I don't like redheads..."

Draco felt himself sneer.

"...it's just that I've discovered a lot about myself recently. And I've learned I favor something else entirely."

Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Draco licked his lips and asked, "Is that why you're here, tonight?"

Potter looked him in the eye with that intensity of his - the strange mix of intensity and shyness that was so unique to Potter, and which Draco's heart thrumming. In a single, light breath, he said, "Maybe."

Draco smirked deviously. He knew what would get Potter to lose control and admit he wanted him. He reached out and delicately touched Potter's hand, which was still grasping the edge of the blanket.

Potter's breath hitched, and he looked up.

"I want to show you something, Potter," Draco said breathily. He could feel his cheeks her turning pink, but he knew this would work, if Potter had any trace of animal instinct left in him.

"What?" Potter asked, eyes shining brightly.

Draco brought his hands up to grip the covers, and he dragged them down his body until they bunched up near his knees.

Potter stirred. "What... what'r you doing?" he asked in a rather loud whisper.

"Trust me," Draco said, kicking the rest of the blanket off. "You'll like it. I know you will."

The hospital gown was loose, and Draco knew he needed to tease. So he scooted down the bed until he was on his back, and his bent his knee only slightly so his feet were flat on the bed. In this position, the gown rose up easily, and pooled down at the start of his thighs so that a little bit of curve of his arse showed, and his legs made long lines across the bed.

He could hear Potter's breathing grow heavier, and he smirked again when he saw Potter's expression. He was looking at Draco's legs, pupils dilated and dark, his full lips slightly parted.

Draco slowly ran his hands up his own thighs, from knee to groin, and he heard Potter exhale sharply. He then bent his knees more, and then lifted his legs, until he felt the coolness of the air against his arse.

"Mal...Malfoy..." Potter was breathing hard. "What'r you doing?"

Draco licked his lips again. He steadied his nerves, and said, "Come sit at the foot of the bed." His voice sounded deeper than he'd expected.

Potter looked like he would faint. His eyebrows shot up and he stopped breathing altogether. Slowly, he got up from the metal chair, swallowed, and took clenched his fists. He was looking anywhere but at Draco's face; but, Draco was looking at his, and he felt his heart flutter when he realized this was Potter's "determined" pose. He was bracing himself against his fear, preparing to go in all the way. Draco's heart sped.

Potter took his steps resolutely until he reached the end of the bed, and then his eyes widened into saucers. Draco could only imagine what he looked like from that vantage point, but he knew that somewhere, innately, Potter liked it. That knowledge spurred him on, and he put his hands under his knees and lifted his legs the remaining amount so that his arsehole was out and visible. He closed his eyes and imagined it - his arsehole, pink and tight, and above that his balls, covered in blonde hair that traced up his groin and around his pink shaft, which hung heavily and half hard between his splayed legs.

He felt a dip in the bed, and he opened his eyes to see Potter now sitting on the end of it, one hand pushing into the mattress where it steadied him. His gaze was concentrated on Draco's display.

He spoke, and his voice was rough. But he never moved his eyes. "So. You wanted to show me... _this_?"

Draco exhaled. "Yes."

Potter bit his lip. He brought his other hand up to the bed, and he seemed to be pulled into Draco by an invisible force, because the next thing Draco knew, Potter's face was right near his arse so that he felt his breathing.

Draco closed his eyes. Good. Potter wanted a nice, close look.

He heard his name in a whisper, and felt it across his arse. "Draco."

"You like it?" Draco asked.

Potter moaned. "Oh, fuck yes," he breathed.

Draco then felt a weight on top of him, and he opened his eyes to see Potter climbing up his body until his rested between Draco's legs. Draco let go of his knees and let his feet fall onto the bed. The weight of Potter's body pressed on top of him was too much, and he felt dizzy.

"Draco," Potter said again.

"Hm," was the only response Draco manage, because Potter's hand was on his cheek.

Draco brought his hands up instantly and gripped Potter by the back of his arms, feeling the the muscle there. Instinctively, he squeezed it.

Potter groaned and leaned in all the way. Their lips touched. Their lips pressed together, and Draco felt like he was falling backwards even though his head was already against the pillow. He clenched tighter at Potter's muscles, kneading them and feeling lust spark in his groin.

Potter's mouth moved, and Draco opened his and then felt Potter's tongue on his, and he moaned into Potter's mouth as their tongues continued to touch over and over and over again.

Draco then knew that he no longer missed the cave Potter, because this Potter was so much better. This Potter could kiss him, and he could talk to him. And this Potter didn't think of him as just a hole to fuck; he thought of him as Draco, as evidenced by how desperately he kept repeating Draco's name between kisses. Draco decided that hearing it was wonderful, and he wanted to hear it more often, spilling from Potter's gorgeously kissable lips. He wanted to hear Potter say his name for a very long time to come.


End file.
